My Dearest Gabriel
by ST4RSK1MM3R
Summary: It has been six years since the war began. With raids hitting cities daily, and losses mounting, a Griffon Fw-190 pilot writes one final letter home from war. Part of the WW:E series, reading the other stories is not required.


My Dearest Gabriel,

I'm sorry I have not written in such a long time. Things have been hectic around here for quite some time, and now that things have quieted down I finally have a chance to write. We have moved to the area outside the capital, can't tell you where of course. It is the closest I have been to you since this began.

* * *

"Up! Up! Everyone up! Incoming raid! Up! Up!" Officers ran down the halls of the barracks, shaking bunks to wake up the sleeping pilots. A loud, whining siren could be heard across the compound, startling awake the few who remained asleep. She looked up from her letter, scribbled down the last line, and shoved it into the envelope, and tossed it onto her bunk, following the startled pilots out into the night.

She made a mad dash towards her aircraft, throwing on her uniform as she went. A loud roar drowned out the siren, as two aircraft streaked overhead into the starry sky. The first to make it airborne.

As she approached, the green camo net covering her aircraft from unwanted eyes was pulled back, by the ground crew, revealing the majestic three-bladed metal propeller of a Fw-190 to the moonlight.

"Is she ready?" She asked, climbing up onto the wing and pulled herself into the cockpit, strapping herself in.

Her crew chief nodded. "She's all fueled and armed and ready to go." Two more aircraft took to the sky, and then two more.

"Alright, start 'er up." He nodded, stepping off the wing and making a symbol to one of the crew, who nodded, while she began flipping switches to start the engine.

It roared to life, and as soon as the chocks were removed began rolling forward onto the taxiway.

* * *

I hope you are safe. More and more raids have been heading your way, and I fear for you and the kids. I hope you are considering my plan to move away from the city. It is too dangerous for you to stay.

There is talk around the field of command planning a major offensive. The officers say it will win the war., and that it will not be long before the land of Equestria is under our control. The others have their doubts, as do I.

There are so few of us now. We lost three good pilots just this week. Only four remain of the original squadron. Every time I see a flight return with a hole in the formation, a small part of me dies inside.

Many of the new replacements are little more than kids, and most of them have little to no experience piloting aircraft, with only a few hours of ground training. They drop like flies, and seem to have a life expectancy of only a few missions. They seem to be little more than cannon fodder, to protect the more experienced.

* * *

She pushed the throttle open, the aircraft beginning to move faster and faster, before she slowly pulled back on the stick, and the aircraft left the ground.

"Red Eight, you are ordered to climb to seven thousand feet, following the river southeast."

"Roger." She flipped the lever to raise the gear, pulling her aircraft into a bank to the left, gaining altitude.

* * *

I haven't received a letter from Gabby for a few days, last I heard from her she and her crew had been shipped to the Badlands to fight the Changelings. In her last letter she mentioned a kind young tom she had met after he had transferred to their unit, whose name eludes me at the moment. While she denies it in her letters, she has clearly taken a liking to this soldier.

It is such a strange place for love to be blooming, in the middle of war.

* * *

"Agh!"

An explosion sent her sprawling to the ground, leaving her dazed for a brief moment. She picked her head up off the ground, tears of pain streaming down her face. Her body hurt all over, and she was fairly certain her wing was broken. She glanced back at her burning Tiger, its gun still pointing high in the air defiantly, as if refusing to accept its fate. The sounds of machine guns and explosions were deafening, almost drowning out all sound.

"Gabby!"

Almost.

"Ruh...Ruffle?"

"Gabby! Are you alright?" He appeared through the dust and smoke, kneeling beside her.

"My wing is broken… A-and I don't think I can walk…" She answered weakly.

"Hang on, I'll get help, you'll be fine… Medic!" He called out, grabbing her by the leg and dragging her into a nearby crater as bullets flew by.

They lay there for a moment, resting, before he gripped his rifle and poked his head out of the crater, firing on the approaching Changelings.

With a soft thunk, a grenade landed in the dirt between the two of them. They blankly stared at it, unsure of what to do, and then at each other. With nothing else to do, Ruffle leaned in and kissed her.

* * *

She said she would write more, but you know how she is.

My flight flew over our house yesterday. I saw you and the little ones outside. I think you waved. I hope they are old enough to understand why their mother is never around, and that they are old enough to understand why.

I long to be with you. To be back in the house, with the kids playing in the hall, with you in my arms. Every day I wish to be there with you.

* * *

"Whoa…" Someone said over the radio, and she felt inclined to agree. There were hundreds of them, all floating silently in formation, a few hundred feet below. "We're going attack _that_ thing?"

The sun had risen by now, allowing her to see each and every one of the large aircraft below as the sunlight glinted off exposed metal, each set of contrails forming a point to each bomber and it's escort below. It had to be the largest formation she had seen to date.

"It's either attack it or have hundreds of Griffons die in Griffonstone. Your choice." She said. She waited for just the right moment when the formation has passed directly underneath them, to attack.

"Red Squadron, follow me!" She flipped her plane inverted and pulled back on the stick, sending her aircraft into the bomber formation below.

* * *

I hope this war ends soon. Too many have died needlessly, and for what? We are no better now than we were five years ago. Before the Equestrians were willing to help us, as they did with the changelings, but our warmongering leader would have none of it. He would rather take things with force then seek out diplomatic solutions. Now, all they want if to destroy us from the air. Who can blame them...

For the sake of our entire species, our home, our country, and our children, I hope he soon sees the error of his ways, or we shall all be destroyed.

* * *

She looked up just in time to see a Mustang with a rainbow-painted tail dive towards her, guns pulled back on her stick just in time for the bullets to shoot past harmlessly with a _whizz_.

The Mustang pulled up, climbing to gain altitude and speed over her to make another attempt, and she was about to follow, but another shiny B-17 filled her gunsight and she pulled the trigger, her aircraft shaking and rattling from the recoil. One of its engines burst into flame, and before long the bomber was sent spiraling into the clouds. She watched it fall, checking for chutes. There were none.

Tracers shot past her canopy. It was the rainbow-tailed Mustang again. She growled and dived into a cloudbank.

"Agh!" She cried out in pain and surprise as bullets raked her cockpit, one passing through her arm and showering her with sparks as the instrument panel short-circuited. Another Mustang shot past, its tail painted orange and yellow.

She desperately pulled on the stick, but her aircraft refused to respond. Smoke began to fill the cockpit. She sighed. Time to bail.

But the canopy refused to move. She fruitlessly yanked on the lever to blow the canopy off, but nothing happened, no matter how many times she tries or how hard she pulled.

Realization set in. This was how she was going to die, hurtling toward the ground inside a metal coffin.

Her last thought before she hit the ground was for someone to send her letter.

* * *

Anyway, the sirens are blaring and the officers are waking people up now, so I need to go. I hope to see you soon.

Your Loving Mate,

Gilda


End file.
